


I was made for loving you

by twelveisagoodone



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4782596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelveisagoodone/pseuds/twelveisagoodone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something unexplainable traps Clara Oswald at Gallifrey, thousands of years on his past and there is nothing he can do to save her, nothing that won't rip the Universe apart. But suddenly he will realize that sometimes the Universe conspires in favor of his happiness too, even when all the signs tell him otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story had been on my mind for a long time and after the good reception this post had (linked bellow), I finally decided to write it.  
> It will be a three chapter story, and from the beginning I need to tell you all that I'm sorry for the angst. But I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> (http://twelveisagoodone.tumblr.com/post/128726283938/clara-was-always-his-clara)
> 
> Many thanks for misswinterseat for her help and support!

The first time he met her she was lost and scared, hurt and tiredness in the dark brown eyes that looked into his with a familiarity that couldn’t be possibly there. And he was young, so very young and foolish and lost in his own life. So far away from the man he wanted to be or could possibly be.

And her gentle voice talked about things she couldn’t possibly know, shaking him out, intriguing him. But it had been her laughter, a beautiful sound so full of hope and so many other things that would take him thousands of years to understand that had captivated his hearts, planting the seeds of the feeling that would grow deep roots to bloom into something beautiful and lasting.

She was perfect for him, in every way. Always brave, always funny. Always exactly what he needed. And he loved her with all his hearts and made her his wife, and lived to make her happy.

Clara, his Clara.

And his love for her was still there, longer after she had gone.

The second time he met her, he was older and she wasn’t really her. It couldn’t be. It should be a ghost or the product of his probable expiring mind, he had thought at the time, not knowing how far of the truth he was.

But there she was, standing in front of him dressed like a technician, as beautiful as ever, coercing him to get hold of a different TARDIS because it would be more fun. And, even though he was just at the beginning of his long tenure, he felt old and tired, because he couldn’t remember exactly how it felt to have fun. Not since she had died, so many years before. Yet, he did as she had told him, because how could he possibly deny her anything, even if it wasn’t really she?

Through the years he had that odd feeling that she was always around, taking care of him, protecting him, like a constant companion. Most of the time, he thought it were just his foolish hearts, still longing for her after all those years. But there were times when he could see her at the corner of his eyes, like a shadow, a silhouette, a familiar face among a crowd that he had never been able to really find.

It took him centuries to meet her again, an old man hidden behind a young and childish façade. This time, he didn’t see her because she was hidden too, her beautiful soul trapped into the most hateful creature of the Universe, transformed into a Dalek. And yet, again she was there for him. She was called Oswin then, and she died, saving him.

They met again in Victorian London, he was still his young and floppy haired self. She was Clara again, a governess. And again she gave her own life to save his.

Then he became obsessed with her, spent years thinking about her, searching the Universe trying to find her again to solve the mystery behind that girl that kept crossing his timeline over and over. A girl with the same face, the same bravery, the same heart of the woman that had stolen both of his hearts centuries ago. A girl that, pretty much like the woman he loved, always died to save him.

Until, impossible as she had always been, she called him from 21st-century London: Clara Oswald, the impossible girl, this one so very like his Clara that every time she laughed his hearts burst.

They started to run together. Strangely, she didn’t remember him, but she was perfect, too perfect in every way. Always brave, always funny. Always exactly what he needed. And that was enough for him for some time and he got used to not knowing who Clara Oswald really was.

Until he found out the truth at Trenzalore, the mystery of Clara, of all the Claras he had met before, including his Clara, finally revealed. And he finally could see it clear.

But he was wrong. So very wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He lost her, and it is all his entire fault. He can't have her back, and it is all his entire fault either. And now he needs to see her one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so here is the second chapter. There is just one more to go.  
> Hope you enjoy, and please, let me know your thoughts!

It had been his entire fault, there was no one else to blame, but him. How could he have been so stupid, so blind to not see it coming? He knew enough about Clara to know that she would do that; she would risk her life to save him, to save them all; his impossible girl, always so brave and so willing to make the impossible choices for him. And now she was gone, lost, trapped, alone, somewhere.

He punched keys and pulled levers, but the TARDIS just refused to obey him, refusing to move, to go after her and kept sounding her alarms louder and louder, lights blinking as fast the spiral of despair that threatened to take over him.

He begged her, put himself on his knees and cried out, but the blasted ship was adamant and kept showing in all her screens why it was impossible to bring Clara back. Finally, blinded by pain, he tried to turn off some of the ship’s circuits. But the TARDIS, anticipating his last act of despair, locked her panels, frustrating his plans.

And he punched the console, focusing all his sorrow and anger against the cold and hard metal of his ship until his hearts were numb and his lungs burned and there weren’t more tears left inside of him.

He must’ve fainted or dozed off, for how long, he couldn’t tell. But when he finally opened his eyes, feeling the cold of the metal floor against his back, the dim lights and the silence, so heavy as his shattered hearts, welcomed him.

He stood up and hissed with the sharp pain on his left hand. It was covered in dried blood and by the look of the bruises on it, broken. He should take care of it soon or at least take something for the pain. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about how pointless that would be as the biggest pain, the one that burned in his chest, would still remain?

A quick look at the monitors and he knew they were drifting aimlessly in the time vortex. One punch at a button and there it was all the information and calculations back on the screens.

He closed his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. He always knew that one day she would leave him, they always did, sooner or later, one way or another, so it wouldn’t be different with her, it didn’t matter how much he loved her. Though part of him had always hoped that it would be later, much, much later, especially after he had been given a second chance last Christmas.

But he should’ve known that the Universe would never allow him to be happy without asking for something in return, but why like that? Why put him through all the misery of watching someone be trapped away from him again?

Off everything that could’ve happened to Clara, of course, she had to leave in an impossible way: an infuriating fixed point in time, so very connected to the very tissue that formed the time-space continuous, so deeply entwined with the Universe that changing it was a threat to all the existence.

Oh, Clara.

His Clara and her big brown eyes and dimpled smiles lost in the past. And he couldn’t bring her back without putting the entire Universe in collapse.

His eyes wandered over the monitors, all the calculations giving him the same ridiculous answer. Then something else caught his attention, something that had been there all the time but that in his angered pain he had ignored so far. He approached the monitor to check it again, the familiar numbers flashing a memory in his mind.

That couldn’t be right, could it? He punched some keys and the ship made all the calculations again, and again, and again, but the results didn’t change.

But that was… impossible. He swallowed hard, ignoring that hard thumping of his hearts. Clara Oswald was trapped in the past. His past. At Gallifrey, before the Time War, before he had become a Time Lord, before…

Those coordinates definitely couldn’t be right, because if they were, Clara would’ve met him, in his first face, still a young man. And he should remember meeting her. But the only Clara he remembered was her, his Clara, his beloved first wife and…

For a moment he couldn’t breathe, realisation washing over him as a flow of memories rushed into his mind and he couldn’t deal with the conflicting emotions in his hearts.

Clara… Oh, Clara.

\-- 0 – 0 --

He turned around to bump into someone and stepping back he could see her face, the petite brunette in strange clothes, big brown eyes staring into his with curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite identify, making him instantly blush.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unable to move his eyes away from hers.

“It’s ok,” she replied, the trembling in her voice telling him the opposite.

She looked pale and somewhat scared making him feel a strange pain in his hearts.

“Are you alright?” He reached out his hand, touching her elbow very lightly.

It took her a moment to answer him, arms bracing herself trying to hide her shivering from him.

“I’m just tired. I’ve been travelling for many days.”

He watched her, her strange clothes looked worn out and she had some scratches and little bruises on her face and hands, a tiredness in her eyes that told him that she had been on the road by herself for long. She clearly didn’t belong there, to Gallifrey nor any other place he had already been before.

And then she said his name, her voice soft, dark eyes intently fixed on his as if she was trying to read his very soul, and his hearts stopped.

“Do I know you?” He knitted his brows in confusion eliciting a meek smile from her lips.

“Not yet,” she whispered as if it was hard for her to speak. And when he kept silence, trying to figure her out, she cleared her throat and added. “An old friend of mine told me about you. He also told me how to find you and said that you would help me.”

He took her in for a moment longer, the honesty on her eyes making something shift deep inside him and he nodded.

“Alright, I will help you…”

“Clara,” she offered him a smile that he reciprocated.

“Clara who?”

And then, she laughed. A crystal clear sound that instantly brought light to his entire world. And maybe his hearts had skipped a beat or two.  
  
“Just Clara,” she said after a moment, her voice soft, eyes never leaving his and he felt the corners of his mouth moving upwards.

“Ok, ‘just Clara’,” his smile widened, “come with me,” he reached out for her hand and caught himself telling her when he felt the warmth of her tiny hand in his, “I will keep you safe.”

\-- 0 – 0 --

He let himself fall in the jump seat, his hearts beating so fast that he thought that he would faint any moment. How hadn’t he had ever noticed? How could he be so blind that he hadn’t seen what had always been there, crystal clear in front of his eyes?

Clara Oswald, the real Clara, not one of her echoes. She had always been his Clara. The impossible girl who appeared from nowhere into his life, thousands of years ago to become his rock, his cornerstone - his wife.

He closes his eyes, letting the tears roll down his cheeks, all the things finally making sense, all the pieces falling down on its places.

The memory of her smile filled his mind, his hearts aching for her. She was lost for him, for this him. But somewhere in his past, an alive Clara Oswald was meeting him, still so young, so foolish, so naïve about everything with which the Universe would test through. And she would love him like she ever did and made him fall in love with her for the first time or all over again.

He missed her. He missed them and all the time they had together. He had never stopped missing her.

“An old friend of mine told me about you..."

His name. She knew his name because an old friend had told her. That had always intrigued him and no matter how much he asked her to tell him about that mysterious friend of hers, she had always dismissed him. Then, suddenly he understood.

He needed to find Clara Oswald. One last time. One proper goodbye. And put her on the right path to meet him for the first time. Or all over again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He needs to find Clara to say his goodbyes, but also, to help her to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to misswinterseat for her help and support and to all of you for reading, leaving kudos and comments. 
> 
> I know that this story is more angst than my usual writing, but it is something that was in my head for so long, that lately I just couldn't write anything else. So, here it is, one more chapter; there is just one more to go.  
> Hope you'll enjoy, and please let me know your thoughts.

“Come on, come on, come on!” He growled and kicked the console in exasperation when the TARDIS continued to ignore his commands. “Why are you doing this? You know very well that I must find her! She needs me!”

The TARDIS beeped and flickered her lights in disapproval, once more denying him his wish and he ran a hand through his tired face. Leaning against the console he bowed his head and closed his eyes trying his best to ignore the prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Come on, old girl. Help me here, please,” he said in a quiet tone. “Right now she is lost on an alien planet, hurt, alone and confused, hoping for a miracle or a someone who can help her. And you,” he pointed a trembling finger up at the rotors, “you more than anyone else know who must help her now.”

The lights flickered once more and the ship went silent as if she was considering his words.

He was stuck, powerless. The only way he could get to Clara was with the help of the TARDIS. He must find her and send her a message, giving Clara enough information so she could be able to locate his younger self at his home planet and he would help her.

He bit his lower lip, a flash of understanding crossing his mind. The TARDIS didn’t trust him. And maybe she wasn’t wrong because he knew that there still was a tiny part of him that would do anything to have her back at his side, that didn’t want to let go of her, even knowing what the future would bring to her. His memories about all those glorious days they shared, all the happiness and love, should be enough to soothe his hearts and give him the strength to face that his face time with her had finished, but that her time with him was only about to begin. So why did it still hurt that much? How much of a bad person was he for feeling that way?

After a long moment, he felt the lights changing inside the ship, a low humming calling him back and prompted him to lift his head to see the image of Clara, in the exact way he had seen her for the last time, at the top of the stairs of the second level. A holographic projection of his Clara, created by the TARDIS interface, so real that he could feel the warm of the dark eyes that watched him with clear concern.

He closed his eyes for a moment, unable to look at her. Of all the faces the TARDIS could have chosen, it had to be hers. He shook his head, a sad sigh escaping his lips.

“Now you are just being cruel,” he stated, his voice hoarse.

“Maybe,” the interface’s voice said, Clara’s voice, those so familiar dark eyes watching him carefully. “But I need you to promise me that you wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m a stupid man,” he half laughed. “You should know this by now.”

“I do,” the hologram’s face softened. “That’s why I’m here.” The image stepped near him and he almost expected to hear the sound of her shoes clipping against the metal floor, but nothing came when she moved. “Doctor, please, promise me. You know that you can’t change it. You know the consequences.”

He sighed, turning his back at the image, unable to look at her face anymore.

“Why did you never tell me?”

“You know the answer for that.”

Of course, he did; he wasn’t supposed to know about his own future.

He saw her moving around the console to close the final distance between them. If this were the real Clara, she would touch his arm, fondly, coercing him to look at her.

“Promise me, Doctor.”

“You know I can’t. It can kill her,” he said quietly, staring at the floor. “There is nothing I can do, even if I wanted to.”

“And do you?”

He glanced at her from over his shoulder and she was there, watching him, silently waiting for his answer. A sad chuckle shook him.

“You already know the answer. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

She watched him for a long moment.

“You are afraid of losing her. But you know you won’t,” she smiled meekly. “Close your eyes, you clever boy, and remember.”

Her words cut him, like a knife, but for once in a lifetime he did like he had been told and let the memories flood into his head. And he felt the hot tears running down his cheeks when the images succeeded in his mind, still so clear, still so alive. Memories of lingering touches and tender kisses, of waking up inside her warm embrace and of the softness of her skin against his. The thrumming of her heartbeats against his chest, memories of feeling whole and complete and loved, so much loved. A house near a mountain, full of the laughter of children, their children; spring afternoons spent by the lake, the wind in her hair and that look in her eyes, the one that even now could make his heart beat faster.

He finally opened his eyes to look at her, his hearts warmed by the memories, and nodded at her, letting her know that he still remembered, that he still knew how it was to be that happy.

“I promise,” he whispered and she smiled.

“Ok, Doctor,” she said in a soft tone, so very much like the real Clara would do to soothe him. “Let’s do it.”

He smiled at her, knowing what they need to do. It would be dangerous and risky and it would be just another day in the TARDIS if weren’t by what was at stake. Clara’s life, her future and the story they had written together.

But first, if he still remembered well, he needed to make some preparations.

\-- 0 – 0 --

“How did you end up here?” He watched her cautiously while he guided through the streets of the village, her delicate hand still on his.

“Walking,”she said simply making his lips curl in a coy smile.

He shook his head, glancing at her with soft eyes.

“No, I mean, it’s not usual to find a human wandering around these streets.”

A spark crossed her dark eyes for a brief moment and she tilted her head, looking at him in a way that made his hearts beat just a tiny bit faster than they should.

“How could you possibly know that I am a human?”

“First, your clothes,” he pointed lightly at her. “Not the usual Gallifreyan fashion. Unless you are trying to start a change in the habits, which, if you allow me to say,” he took in her short skirt and black jacket, “won’t be that bad at all.”

A flash of a dimple let him know that she was amused. The thought that maybe there was little more of pink on her cheeks made him suppress a smile, thrilled by the idea of being able to make her blush.

“Well observed,” she quirked an eyebrow that made him freeze, “but not enough to make a human of me.”

“Right, then. Second,” he held her wrist, his long fingers brushing her skin very lightly when he pulled the sleeve of her jacket up just enough to reveal a little device that had been hidden under it. “This little fella here seems very much alike to a translator circuit to me. I can bet that if I take it out, you won’t understand a word of what I’m telling you.”

Her eyes widened and she quickly retreated her wrist from his grasp, defensively crossing her arms against her chest. He showed her a gentle smile and offered her one of his hands, palm up, waiting for her to take it, letting her know that he hadn’t lied to her when he had told her that he would keep her safe.

It took her a moment longer, but when she finally accepted his hand, he felt the rush of electricity of her warm touch once more running from his fingers through his arm.

They smiled at each other, her eyes intently locked on his and he wished that he could freeze that moment.

“Third,” he lifted a cocky eyebrow and she giggled.

“Oh, so is there a third?” There was a teasing spark in her dark eyes that elicited a small laugh from his lips.

“And the most impressive one,” he looked into her eyes. “I felt it.”

She furrowed her brows, watching him with wary eyes, pulling her hand out of his grasp once more and he instantly knew that he had done wrong.

“Oh, very clever! Did you read my mind?” A hint of concern crossed her eyes, though she didn’t look like she was angry. Well, he couldn’t tell exactly, he had just met her after all.

“No! Of course not!” He let out an indignant huff. “I would never do such a thing without your permission,” he opened his arms in exasperation and crossed a hand through his dark curls, taking a long breath. “I felt your pulse. One single heartbeat. There aren’t many races with your kind of constitution and one heart.”

She took him in for an instant. “So it was just a good guess,” her eyes peered into his face, searching for the true.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his neck. “It was more based on previous knowledge than anything,” he stated with a soft voice and when she looked at him in confusion, he added. “My mother. She was human.”

She blinked, big brown eyes widening in utter surprise and for a moment he wondered how she could do it.

“How did you never tell me this before?”

His brows knitted in confusion for a brief moment, but a smile quickly found its way through his lips, softening his features, eyes never leaving hers. It was so easy to smile with her around him. How could she do it?

“Well, since we just met, Clara ‘just’ Clara, I think that it was still on time, isn’t it?”

\-- 0 – 0 -- 

He checked the calculations on the monitors one last time. If everything was right, he had enough energy to materialise the two objects that lay now over the console and time enough to explain her everything she needed to know without given her much about her own future.

He ran a hand through his curls and sighed. It would be hard, he knew, to see her one last time. But she would be safe and very soon, she would be happy. That should be more than enough for him.

He pushed one lever and the TARDIS rotors whizzed, the sound that usually accelerated his hearts now making them feel too tight in his chest. A couple of minutes after, the ship stopped with the familiar bang and he checked the coordinates on the screen. Pressing a couple of keys he saw an image forming at the screen in front of him catching his breath.

Clara.

She looked so tired and scared and that broke his hearts all over again. But he had no time for that, right now, she needed him. Even if she would hate him after that.

With one last check at the settings of his sonic, he pushed the pair of buttons that activate the circuits that would now project his image in front of her and prayed that he could do everything he needed in time.

\-- 0 – 0 --

“Clara!” His voice echoed through the empty road and she turned around, a big smile spreading on her face when she saw him.

“Doctor!” She ran towards him and he watched her face frown in confusion when she threw hear arms around him but hugged just air. “What is it? Where are you?”

“It’s a projection,” he said trying to control the sadness in his voice.

“Why? Why are you not here?”

He could recognise the pain on her face. It was the same inside his hearts and he felt his will faltering. So he needed to close his eyes, clinging to the memory of her by the lake, brown eyes looking at him with so much love, and that gave him strength.

“Doctor?”

He looked at her again and bit his lower lip feeling the tears stinging his eyes.

“I’m so, so very sorry, Clara.”

Her dark eyes peered his face but he saw when the glint of understanding crossed them.

“You can’t rescue me, can you?”

“No,” he whispered. “I can’t bring you back, Clara. Not without destroying the half of the Universe and probably… killing you.”

Clara nodded slowly, tears falling down her face freely. She lowered her gaze for a moment, before she looked at him once more, drying her tears with the back of her hand.

“So I’m trapped here.”

He nodded.

“Where? When?”

“Gallifrey. Before the Time War.”

Her eyes widened in shock like they were malfunctioning. Still now, he couldn’t understand how she could do that.

“I’m trapped in your past?”

A note of hesitation in her voice and he nodded again, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

“And you need to find me, my very first self. He will help you.”

She stared at him for a moment longer; a flicker of pain crossing the dark of her eyes and he instantly knew what she was thinking. And it pained him too.

“Do you remember meeting me? Did you always know?”

“No! Not until it was too late. Not until… you were gone,” he whispered wishing that he could tell her the entire truth, that she would meet him and that they would be just fine. Both of them. “I always thought it was one of your echoes. I didn’t realise it was you, the real you, until…” He took another deep breath.

She watched him for one moment and he knew that she believed him.

“Ok. So I need to find you,” she bit a fingernail. “But he won’t be able to send me back either, will he?”

He shook his head.

“Nobody can. I’m sorry, Clara. I really am.”

Again she nodded slowly, fighting the tears the were still rolling down, though he could tell that her mind was racing, searching for answers that he couldn’t give her.

“Listen, Clara, you need to go to Mount Lung, at the Southern Mountains of Gallifrey. There is a house, called the House of Lungbarrow. There is the place where he lives. You will meet him in the village nearby.”

“Do you remember it? Meeting me?”

“I do,” he nodded slowly. “And he will help you. Trust me.”

“I do.” She let out a small laugh, sadness in her eyes.

“He is quite charming, good looking, though pretty much an idiot at this point,” he grinned at her trying to keep a lighter tone to that so hard conversation. “You will like him.”

She let out a tiny laugh. “Glad to know that you didn’t change that much.”

He smiled and tried to focus on what he should do. The TARDIS beeped at him, urging him to end the conversation before it drained all her energy. He picked up the two objects at the console and handed them to her.

“Look, take this,” he placed a metal bracelet on the ground in front of her and pointed the sonic at it. “It’s a translator circuit, it will help you with the language at the beginning.”

Clara looked at him with knitted brows and he motioned his head to coerce her to pick it up, which she did. She twirled the bracelet between her fingers before she placed on her right wrist.

“How did you do this?”

“I used a great amount of the TARDIS energy to materialise it for you, she is not very happy with me right now,” he gave her a small smile, searching his trouser pocket for another thing. “And, eventually, you’ll need this too.”

She gasped as soon as she saw what he had placed on the ground, between them.

“It’s your ring,” she swallowed hard. “Why will I need it?”

“You’ll have to give it to him,” he smiled softly. “He will lose it in the moment when he will need it the most, and you will save him, as usual.”

She picked it up and closed her hand around it, eyes fixed on him before she put it inside her jacket pocket.

“There is something else you will need,” he said and with a movement of the sonic two symbols in the round Gallyfrean writing showed up in front of her. He knew she could understand it because of the translate circuit attached to her wrist.

“What is it?”

“You know what it is,” he observed her while she anxiously touched the metal of the bracelet on her wrist.

“Your name,” she whispered and he just nodded, watching while she kept struggling against tears and he wished he could hold her tight against his chest and tell her that everything would be ok. Because he knew it would.

“How do I recognise him, you?” She kept looking at him, anxiously twisting her fingers. “I mean, you’d told me where to go, but how do I...”

“His eyes,” he whispered and he saw a stubborn tear running down her face when she nodded in understanding.

“Will I see you again? This you?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling against his own tears.

“No. It’s too dangerous.”

She nodded as if she already knew his answer. She probably did.

“So this is a goodbye, Doctor?”

And then he couldn’t hold it anymore, pressing a button and with the help of the sonic he just ignored all the alarms ringing in the TARDIS, materialising himself in front of her. How could he let her go like that, not knowing how he really felt, not knowing everything that was in his hearts?

She gasped when he pulled her to him, his lips crashing into hers with all the passion and love he had been holding all this time, trying to put in that single moment everything he would never be able to tell her. She clung to him as for dear life and kissed him back, hands encircling his neck pressing her body against his.

And then, he finally knew that she understood and felt all he did. And that should be enough to warm him at the lonely days that would come.

He felt the pull of the TARDIS on his body, fighting to get him back before he could damage this timeline, her energy draining quicker that he had anticipated. In one last moment of clarity, he placed his fingers on her temple, silently asking her to forgive him for this invasion.

“What are you doing?” There was fear in her voice, but she didn’t move away from him.

He felt his body shaking, the ship desperately calling him back before it would be too late, but he needed to do this one last thing.

“I’m building a block to protect..." He groaned, the effort of doing it almost more than he could bear, "...your memories of me... from him...."

And then, everything vanished and he found himself on the floor of his almost discharged TARDIS, both of them drained, both of them broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Eighth Doctor mentioned or insinuated that his mother was human, and I decided to use it in this story. Besides, as SM himself use to say, everything can be canon at DW.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was there, as beautiful as he remembered, and nothing could be more perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the last installment on this story.  
> Many thanks to misswinterseat as usual, she always have kind words of encouragement!
> 
> Hope you'll like it. And please, please, let me know your thoughts (and sorry for the angst.)

He crossed the golden fields slowly appreciating the touch of the soft breeze on his face and the warmth of the sunlight on his skin. The orange skies were clear, no clouds as far as he could see in that perfect spring afternoon. As he approached the top of the hill, he could hear the murmur of the river running through the stones and the sounds of laughter, the sounds of happiness. Everything exactly how he remembered.

He then saw them, the dark-haired heads of two children, a boy and a girl, running and playing at the field bellow, their laughter filling the air with warm and joy, instantly putting a smile on his face. His hearts beat faster, his eyes moving to the big tree. And there she was.

Clara, his Clara, sat on a blanket under the shadow, a little boy on her lap, his little chubby fingers playing with a lock of her hair, eliciting a giggle from her lips.

Her hair was longer than the last time he had seen her, locks of brown hair swaying gently in the breeze while the few rays of the sun that dared to make their way among the tree branches cast flickers of gold and red on her dark tresses.

“Look, mummy! Look!” The other boy called her, a big smile on his little face that matched the one on hers just perfectly. “It’s flying! We did it!”

Clara clapped her hands watching them while they kept running, making the little toy plane fly, the one he remembered he had built the morning before. It wouldn’t take them much to surprise him with the improvements they had made. He couldn’t refrain a proud smile at the memory.

“You really did it! It’s amazing!” She told them, her voice full of music prompting the two older children to giggle. “Your father would be proud of you both!”

He stood there for a moment longer, hands in his pockets, silently watching the adorable scene before his eyes, feeling his hearts constricted inside his chest. How much he missed this. Them.

Then Clara moved her head to look at the boy at her lap and it was enough for her to finally see him standing there. It took her a moment to react as if she was in shock, but then she smiled at him in that warm and soft way, surprise and something else in her eyes. He immediately recognised the emotion, so clear in the eyes that looked at him and his hearts beat faster than they should.

He watched her for a moment, unable to move as if his legs had just forgotten how to walk and she raised her eyebrows just a little bit, the tiniest of the movements, coercing him to approach her.

“You,” she said in a gentle voice when he stopped in front of her, her dark eyes peering through his face and he felt his lips curling up.

“Yeah,” he brushed the tip of his shoe on the grass. “Me.”

The little boy on her lap lifted his head to look at him, a familiar pair of big brown eyes full of curiosity analysing him for a brief moment before his small face broke in an almost toothless broad smile.

“Hello, little man,” he said softly, watching him, still amazed on how much of Clara was in his little beaming face. He always could see a little of Clara in each one of them, but this little one, he was just like her.

He struggled against the lump in his throat and finally got the courage to sit on the grass next to her, both of them watching with loving eyes while the little boy sat between them to play with the toys over the blanket.

“Does he know who you are?”

“Probably,” he lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. “Small children are much more perceptive than adults.”

He noticed her twisting the familiar ring on her left hand and smiled, pointing at it lightly.

“So he found the ring then.”

A faint smile crossed her features.

“I made sure he would,” she looked at the ring for a moment, the green gem on it flickering with one adventurous sunray before she set her gaze upon him again. “You should have told me.”

He shook his head, a coy grin on his lips. “And spoil all the fun for you? Nah,” he glanced at her and crossed an anxious hand through his silvery curls. “How is he doing, by the way?”

She tilted her head, dark eyes sparkling.

“Brilliantly,” she smiled fondly. And then a teasing spark crossed her eyes. “If I knew that it would be like this, I would’ve married you a long time ago.”

He lowered his eyes, blushing without exactly knowing why, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“It happens that he is much better than me in these things, you know.”

“Well, you are still him.”

“Maybe,” they exchanged a long and silent look. There was so much he would like to tell her, but he couldn’t because those words didn’t belong to him anymore. “But he is not me yet.”

He then averted his eyes, training his gaze once more upon the little boy between them, still very focused on the task of scattering his toys as out of his reach as he could and he smiled. One of their miracles, always the best part of him, always able to remind him that somewhere inside him there was still good.

For one moment the endless longing in his hearts was replaced by all the sweet and tender memories they, Clara and him, had built together, moments that she and his young self were still living. The sound of the children’s laughter coming from near them prompted both of them to lift their heads to look at the two beautiful beings running through the field.

“They are really something, aren’t they?” He needed to clear his throat, the hoarseness of his voice betraying his emotions.

Her lips curled in a soft grin.

“They are you,” she stated in a whisper.

His eyes searched for hers, a teasing smirk on his lips.

“Don’t need to flatter me now that you already have me, teach. You are as guilty as I am on this,” he looked away from her to hand the little boy a toy he was struggling to reach and heard her gasping.

“Are you real? Isn’t this a projection?” She reached out a hesitant hand to touch him, but stopped at mere inches, as if afraid that he would dissolve under her touch.

He nodded, his eyes wandering between her hand and the brown haired boy that was struggling to stand up next to him, and he ached for her touch. But then his eyes moved to the little boy. He had forgotten how small and young this one still was at that day, still fighting to achieve his first steps.

The boy finally got to his feet with a satisfied grin that showed him two big teeth under his pinky gums and the Doctor laughed out loud.

“There you go, little man!” He watched him swaying, trying to find the right balance for the first step, his old hearts bursting with joy and pride in the exactly same way they always had done with every single achievement of his children. “Come on,” he encouraged him with a soft voice, arms open to receive him and eyes full of love for that little being that was still a big part of him. “You can do it! Come on!”

The little boy looked at him, that big smile still on his face and gave three quick little steps towards him, throwing himself at his arms to cover the rest of the distance. The Doctor laughed heartily and enveloped his son lovingly, pressing him carefully against his chest and slowly cradling him, feeling the warmth of his little hands around his neck.

“You will do brilliantly, you know that, little one?” He lifted the boy into the air, over his head and the boy squealed in delight, waving his arms with joy. His gaze moved to Clara and he saw the glistening of tears in her eyes. “You all will do brilliantly,” he whispered, lowering the boy into his lap, a single tear running down his face that she dried with a gentle brush of her thumb.

He closed his eyes, lingering on her touch for the brief moment that she cupped his face, her fingers tracing the curve of his jaw before she moved her hand away, letting him longing for more.

“How long it is, for you?” She asked quietly, running a gentle hand through the boy’s dark curls.

“Centuries,” he tried to force a smile. “It took me a long time to get out of the time vortex with a discharged TARDIS, you know.”

“You could’ve died,” she shook her head.

“I didn’t.”

He gave her the boy back, his fingers brushing hers lightly, a rush of warm running through his body when she held his fingers in hers.

“You are still an idiot.”

He chuckled. “Always,” he entwined his fingers with hers and let the comfort of her touch soothe his fears.

“Why now?”

He swallowed hard. He should have known that Clara being Clara, she would never let that fact behind, but that was a question he wasn’t prepared to answer. He didn’t want to because he knew that it would hurt, both of them. The problem was that his Clara now, more than ever, knew how to see through him.

But before he could think of a proper answer, his body gave him away, a shiver running through him before he could remove his hand from her grasp. With a quick glance, she caught the flash of the amber light coming out of his fingertips and then, it was too late to deny it.

Her eyes widened, a dozen of emotions crossing them in one quick moment.

“You are…”

He nodded, unable to let her finish the sentence.

“It won’t take long now.”

“So,” she bit her lip, tears in the corners of her ever so beautiful eyes, “this is a goodbye.”

He looked at her with a meek smile.

“For me, maybe,” he reached out for her hand and squeezed it, “not for you. Never for you.”

Their son chose that moment to join his little chubby hand with their hands, eliciting a small laugh from his lips.

“And certainly not for you too, little man,” he smiled at him, watching from the corner of his eye Clara dry up a stubborn tear from her cheek.

They exchanged a long look and, despite the glistening of tears in her eyes, he knew that she was happy. And she would be, for long years to come yet. He remembered. And that soothed him because that was enough.

He smiled at her, placing a soft kiss at the boy’s crown, feeling the softness of his curls against his cheek before he stood up.

“I must go,” he sighed. “He will come back soon.”

She nodded. “Will you be ok?” Her worried eyes studied him.

“I’m always ok,” he grinned at her and she rolled her eyes impatiently at him. “I will,” he finally said, in a more quiet tone, observing her while she stood up with the boy in her arms.

“Goodbye, Clara Oswald,” he brushed her face with his fingers, slowly, gently. “And, please, trust him, even when he seems impossible,” he struggled against the lump in his throat.

“Always,” her voice was barely a whisper.

He could already feel the rush of the regeneration energy in his cells. It wouldn’t take much more time now, he knew. He kissed the top of her head and let his fingers run through the soft brown curls of his boy’s hair one last time. His sad eyes searched the field, for a glimpse of the other two children, seeing them run and laugh in all their glorious innocence.

With a final smile, he turned around and made his way back to the TARDIS, never looking back. He knew he would fall into pieces if he did.

He could feel the burn of her gaze upon him and for a moment, he almost considered to turn around and take her in his arms one last time. But she wasn’t his to hold anymore.

His story, this face story, was coming to an end, but Clara’s was still at the beginning, with so many good things just waiting for her along the road. And that was enough for him. That would always be enough.


End file.
